


One Hundred Days

by Thegirlnamedhawk



Series: Time Heals series [5]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Adopted Sibling Relationship, Adoption, Found Family, Gen, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Post-Canon, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), adopted family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:15:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25060729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thegirlnamedhawk/pseuds/Thegirlnamedhawk
Summary: Hank is thrilled to get a half day off work, but something seems off when he comes home. Why are his boys acting so suspicious? What the hell were they trying to hide from him?
Relationships: Cole Anderson & Connor, Cole Anderson & Hank Anderson, Hank Anderson & Connor
Series: Time Heals series [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1535651
Comments: 3
Kudos: 47





	One Hundred Days

**Author's Note:**

> https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fuzziestpuppy/pseuds/Fuzziestpuppy is my beta reader and my queen! She's like a superhero of fanfiction and a cheerleader for my overly self critical ass. please please check out her work, it's fantastic.

New Jericho’s walls represented more than just a physical barrier. Steep, foreboding, slabs of gray concrete, but the view of the walls from the inside were very different. From within New Jericho, the residents looked up and were comforted by that stable presence, a symbol of safety and security. A place where they did not have to live in fear of being who they were.

However, for the promise of safety to stay a promise and not become a fantasy, the city walls require constant patrolling. The threat of anti-android extremists remained high, and it’s Hank and his team who are responsible for both policing the people inside and stopping those who wish to harm them from the outside.

It may have been difficult and stressful, but it was more than worth it to Hank. Helping people was always his motivation behind his years on the force, and now he had the chance to help the people who needed it most. Even if his actions only canceled out the efforts of one of the thousands of humans who were against androids, then it would still be enough for him. Connor may not live in the city itself, but any steps forward for the android race were steps forward for his son. 

Weekends were slowly becoming a thing of the past. The problems of the city never stop so to Hank that meant he couldn’t either. Some might call that being a workaholic, and he wouldn’t necessarily disagree, but of all the other aholics he had been in his life this seemed like the most preferable.

One afternoon while reworking a budget report for what felt like the tenth time, Hank was pulled out of his focus by the sound of a firm knock on his office door. He didn’t have any appointments or interviews lined up for the next few hours so whoever it was he hoped they would bring him good news, or at least a coffee. He answered the guest by telling them to come in, and he was delighted to see RK-900 enter. 

“Oh, hey...um...” Suddenly Hank was drawing a complete blank on his name. In Hank's defense, the man had changed his name a few times since his deviancy. The first time didn’t seem that strange. Loads of folks chose different names than the ones they were given, but RK-900 had changed his name several times in the last four months. First he was Rk, then Richard, then Victor, then Niles for what felt like two days, before back to Richard again, but now it was something completely new and fucking hell if he could remember what it was. Something like this was probably not a big deal for androids and their perfect memories but Hank's squishy, alcohol damaged brain was lagging. 

“How’s it going...Boss?” Hank said, shooting him an awkward finger gun. 

“Hank, I believe formalities went out the window the day you saved my life,” the android replied, giving him a warm smile. “Please, call me Isaac.”

“Right, of course, Isaac.” That’s right, he had changed it after reading i robot, and becoming absorbed in the rest of Asimov's work. “How was D.C.?”

Isaac’s shoulders sagged as he let out a defeated sigh. “Frustrating and fruitless as ever. I’m sorry to have to tell you it may still be some time until adoption is a possibility.”

“Ah, that's okay. Connor knows he’s family, we don’t need paperwork to tell us that.” As true as that was, he was still a little disappointed. He was looking forward to the day he could tell Connor they were official. The kid would probably light up like a Christmas tree. 

“I fear Markus’s tactics are not strong enough. I personally believe we need to be more… forceful, if we are to get anywhere with these obstinate politicians, but my dear predecessor thinks that if we use their tactics, then we are no better than them.”

Hank could read the android like a cheap birthday card. He clearly wanted to get something off his plastic chest, so Hank shut down his computer before leaning back in his chair. 

“And I take it you disagree?” He motioned for Isaac to take a seat in the chair across from him.

Isaac sat down but still appeared restless as he began drumming his fingers on his knees. Hank couldn’t help but wonder if it was a coincidence or if the android was actually picking up some of his nervous habits. “I think taking the moral high ground is honorable, but it’s a luxury we can't afford when fighting for our lives. If Markus wants to wave the flag of love and brotherhood over our tomb, then so be it, but I would rather…” The android took a pause to unclench his fist and regain his composure. “Well, I guess it doesn’t matter what I want. He's the righteous, selfless leader, and I’m just the big bad Deviant Hunter after all.” 

Hard to believe the world's most advanced android was having self worth issues. All political opinions aside, Isaac was feeling unheard and unappreciated and needed someone who believed in him. 

“Hey, don’t let Markus or anyone put you down, and certainly don’t do it to yourself. Remember, you freed and led the army that saved your people. You’re the reason any of us are still here today.” 

A proud smile blossomed across Isaac’s face. “Thank you Hank, that really means a lot to me.” Hank was glad he could help. Pep talks were honestly one of his stronger dad skills. 

“So, speaking of Markus, what do you think the odds are of our modern day Moses approving this budget expansion for more security drones?” Hank asked, holding up a tablet with his newest proposal, but Isaac didn’t appear to be listening. He was staring down at the waste basket at Hank's feet which held the three empty coffee cups from today. His eyes then scanned over his desk and then over Hank himself. 

Connor had once told him that even though he had the freedom to be whatever he wanted, he couldn’t see himself being anything but a surgeon. Maybe Isaac had something similar deep down with his programming as a detective. 

A look of concern twisted the androids face. “Hank, what time did you get here?” 

“I think the real question is, what day did I get here?” he joked. The landline on Hank's desk began to ring in that shrill tone that to Hank meant another fire to put out or mess to clean up. As he went to reach for the phone Isaac placed his hand over it.

“Hello,” Isaac answered, without having to lift the phone off the receiver. His LED spun a lazy yellow as he conversed with the person on the other end. “Yes, I’m afraid Captain Anderson is taking the rest of the day off. I can transfer your call to Lieutenant North if you would like. Thank you.”

“I was just kidding Isaac. Seriously, I'm fine.” 

“Hank, you work too much. Go spend some time with your family. The temperature outside is currently in the high sixties, which I am told is an optimal temperature for humans to enjoy the outdoors. I’ll take care of this little budget problem for us.” Isaac said, with a smile and a novel brightness in his eyes as he took the tablet from him. “I think Markus and I need to have a little talk anyway.” 

Well, who was he to argue with the boss. It had been quite some time since he and the boys had been all home together before six o’clock. There was still plenty of time left in the day to take Sumo down to the park. Then maybe after that they could fire up the grill for dinner. Connor may be master of their kitchen, but the young padawan still had much to learn about the art of grilling. 

***

Hank thought it would be fun to surprise the boys. Unfortunately, the sound of the car door shutting set Sumo on a barking frenzy, like the untrained mutt that he was. As he walked up the path to the house the front door opened just a crack and Cole quickly slid through it before shutting it again. 

Cole was a wonderful artist, but an awful actor. He was trying to hide his clear nervousness with a fake smile. “Hey Dad. What’s up? You’re sure home early. Ha, Richard didn’t fire you did he?” he said with a chipper voice and not one, but a double awkward finger gun. 

Hank didn’t respond or return the smile. His years of being a detective resurfaced as he examined his son. He noticed the last two fingers of the boy’s left hand were smeared in something red, paint perhaps. Not that unusual for the young artist but something was clearly off.

A look of genuine fear fell over Cole’s face. “Oh! Oh god. Did he?”

“No, he just let me take off early. What’s going on?”

“What do you mean? Nothing. Nothing’s going on.'' 

“Okay, let’s go inside then.” He took a step towards the door but Cole spread himself over it.

“NO!” The boy shouted. “I-I mean, it’s such a nice day. We should just hang out here for a while.”

“Cole J. Anderson-Padon, what is going on?” he said, in an authoritarian tone he almost never used. 

“Nothing,” he said, like a five foot liar. When Cole timidly brushed a few hairs out of his face his eyes caught sight of his stained fingers and he quickly shoved them into his pocket. 

“Where’s your brother?”

“Brother? Oh, you mean Connor. Oh he’s...umm, he got called into work. Yeah, He’s probably elbow deep in some guy right now.” The sound of clanging metal came from inside the house.

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” Cole hastily answered. “I mean, what was what?” 

Hank considered himself a patient father, but this was getting past the point any sane man would tolerate. Cole was not the kind of kid to try and hide things, so whatever this was it must have been something he really didn't want Hank to see. His mind started conjuring up all the worst case scenarios.

“Young man, this isn’t funny.”

“Oh, you're right. I’m just such a bad kid,” Cole took him by the hand and began to pull him back towards the car. “Why don’t you take me down to the police station and show me all the criminals and Gavin Reed, so I don’t end up like them.”

The impulse to shove his son and make a break for the house was strong, but a better idea came to him. He gave into the boy's insistent tugging and let him pull them away from the door.

“You know what? You’re right, it is a nice day out.” He pulled his keys from his pocket and started spinning them on his finger. “You want to try a little driving practice?”

Hank was equal parts amazed and proud that in this world of self-driving cars, his son actually wanted to get behind the wheel. The boy was still about a few months away from being old enough to get his learner's permit, but that didn’t stop him from bugging Hank constantly to take him to an empty parking lot.

“Really?” Cole said with an elated smile. 

“Sure, catch.” He purposely threw them over the boy’s shoulder. Cole threw his hands up to try and grab them but they slipped through his fingers and landed in the dirt behind him. As soon as Cole turned around to retrieve them, Hank rushed the door. He threw it open with such force that there would probably end up being a crack in the plaster from where the knob hit the wall, but he didn’t care. 

“DAD NO! Sumo, ATTACK!” Cole yelled, but the most Sumo did was let out a few passive barks and wag his back side in excitement. Nothing a few head scratches couldn't subside. 

Hank expected to walk into the sight of something broken or burning, not balloons and the smell of vanilla. In fact, the living room looked even cleaner than it did when he left this morning. He couldn't remember those lines from the vacuum on the rug being there. The biggest question was: where did all these extra folding chairs come from, and what were they doing here? It wasn't any one’s birthday or any holiday, nothing worth celebrating came to mind. 

Sprawled out on the floor was a banner with the words, ‘Congratulations! 100 Days Sober!!’ written in a stylized bubble font. Only the first half of the ‘Congratulations’ was colored in with still wet red paint. He stepped over Coles paint palette and walked into the kitchen.

“The eagle has landed! Repeat, the eagle has landed,” Cole yelled, as he ran into the house. 

Connor was in the kitchen with his sleeves rolled up standing over a white frosted cake, swiftly moving a pastry bag over it. There were a plethora of soda cans and a small mountain of snacks piled on the kitchen table.

“Damn it Cole, I said five minutes!” Connor snapped. “That was barely two point one.” 

“Yeah well, would have loved to see you do better,” Cole snapped back. 

“What the hell is all this?” Hank asked, seeing two and two but still not being able to put them together. 

Connor put down the pastry bag and stepped aside so that Hank could see his confectionery creation. The words ‘We’re proud of you’ were written in perfectly symmetrical letters. “Surprise,” he said meekly.

“We told everyone to show up around five. Uncle Crist said he’s on patrol tonight, but he’ll swing by when he can.” Cole said, sounding disheartened. He looked down and started scuffing the floor with his feet. 

Hank could hardly believe it. Had it really been a hundred days already? He hadn't exactly been keeping track, but clearly the boys had. Not only that but they went and spent their days off planning a party for him. He didn’t know what to say, so he went for the next best thing. He wrapped one arm around each son and pulled them in for a hug. Cole half heartedly struggled against it and let out a groan when he started giving them kisses on their heads with overly dramatic noises. 

“How the hell did I end up with such good kids?”

“You adopted us,” Connor answered in earnest. 

“Connor, you're ruining the moment,” Cole chided, his voice muffled as he gave in to the hug. 


End file.
